


Asylum - Coda #2

by Jinx (jinx37kat)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-29
Updated: 2005-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinx37kat/pseuds/Jinx





	

**Dean**

 

_Pathetic._

_Loser._

Those words reverberated over and over in his skull until Dean was sure his head would explode. The space behind his eyes throbbed with the beatings of his aching heart. His chest tight as though could not gasp in any more air.

_Pathetic._

_Loser._

He could feel the sting materialize suddenly to join the throbbing behind his eyes, making the pain in his head that much more agonizing. He didn’t want to start crying. He knew that if he started, there was a good chance he would never stop.

The tightness in his chest grew. He was no longer able to sustain enough oxygen through his nose to breathe properly and his mouth fell open; he started to gulp in air as though it were being sucked out of the room.

Dean was so focused on breathing that he didn’t hear Sam get up from the other bed and move to sit next to him. The second the bed dipped with Sam’s weight, Dean rolled over, back facing his little brother.

He had to get himself under control. But the more he tried, the worse his breathing became until he began to hyperventilate, gulping in air to no avail.

“Dean…”

Dean felt Sam’s hand on his back and he jerked away, body flinching away from the fire of Sam’s touch. Dean sat up so fast it made his head spin, but he couldn’t let his brother touch him. Not now. Not yet. He was barely hanging on as it were.

_Pathetic._

_Loser._

The words bounced around his brain like a tennis ball, causing Dean to groan with the pain. He folded forward, palming his forehead in his hands and resting his upper body on his knees. He thought he could hear groaning in the background, not realizing that it was he, himself that was creating the sounds.

The new position put pressure on his chest and he whimpered at the pain shooting just under the skin across his front. 

The salt wounds had been cleansed as best as they could be under the spray of the hot shower after they returned to the motel that morning. But the pain merely brought back the memories of how they happened: Sam tried to kill him last night.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the words of his brother when he held the shot gun so threateningly.

_Pathetic._

_Loser._

Hot tears escaped his closed eyelids, but for once, they escaped unnoticed as Dean lost himself in the replay of last night events.

He moaned with the memory and curled further into himself, rocking his body back and forth.

“Dean, please…”

Dean heard something far, far away, sounding strangely like Sam… a Sam who was worried and concerned about his brother. But it couldn’t be. Sam had just said, in no uncertain words, that he hated Dean, hated Dean enough to kill him. Didn’t he?

Dean realized he was no longer distinguishing past from present. The Sam in the room was the same Sam who wanted his own brother dead not more than two hours ago.

He felt a warmth at his back and cringed away, fearful of the same hands that were now slowly drawing around his stomach were the same ones that pulled the trigger of a thankfully unloaded gun mere hours ago.

A sob caught in his throat as he was tentatively and gradually pulled back into the embrace of his little brother. The same little brother whom he saved from a burning building when he was four. The same little brother whom he had stolen a baseball for his fifth birthday because Daddy hadn’t gotten him anything—not even a cake. The same little brother whom he helped with homework every single night; and who now thought him as the dumb older brother. The same little brother who thought he was “pathetic” and a “loser” and who tried to kill him only the night before.

The tears that Dean had struggled so hard to hold back flowed freely now… not even Sam putting a loaded gun to his chest would have been able to stop the cascade. 

Dean felt warm breath again his ear and the vibration of the chest behind him should have told him that Sam was talking, but all Dean could hear was the replay of the night’s events as they looped over and over in his head in an endless circle, reminding Dean...

_Pathetic._

_Loser._

He eventually fell asleep against his brother’s chest with those words ringing in his head. They were accompanied by the sounds of an empty chamber clicking over and over.

 

** Sam **

 

It wasn’t as though he had been sleeping when the first sounds of distress floated over to his side of the room.

He had meekly followed his brother into the motel room and watched as Dean painfully removed his clothes before entering the bathroom and closing the door, locking his brother on the outside.

The shower was long and excruciating to listen to. Sam winced at every hiss of breath and pounding of fist Dean made from pain on the other side of the bathroom door. Finally Dean emerged and went straight to his bed, not once looking in Sam’s direction.

Sam had tried to get Dean to talk on the drive to their room, but Dean was having none of it. Though Sam really couldn’t blame Dean for not being in ‘a sharing, caring kind of mood’ since it was he who had tried to kill Dean only an hour before.

And now, less than a half an hour after Sam had watched Dean climb painfully into the bed, sounds of muffled breathing could be heard on the other side of the room.

Unable to stay away, especially since Sam knew that he was the cause, he carefully pushed back the covers and crossed the small space between their beds to sit next to Dean.

To be honest, Sam was shocked that Dean was allowing Sam to witness the loss of control. But then guilt flooded Sam anew as he realized what anguish Dean must be in to lose control in the first place.

The moment Sam sat next to Dean; he was immediately presented with Dean’s back. Tapping down the hurt Dean’s movement caused, Sam reached out a hand.

“Dean…”

Sam snatched back his hand when Dean flinched away from his touch. 

His eyes grew wide as Dean rolled away from him and quickly sat up, dropping his head into his hands and leaning over onto his knees.

Sam watched in horror as his always-strong, always-stoic big brother crumbled before him.

The sobs that were stifled in Dean’s hands were Sam’s undoing and he scrambled across Dean’s bed. He reached out a hand, but stopped before making contact.

“Dean, please…”

Never in his life had Sam ever seen Dean lose control like this; and it hurt to realize that he was responsible for it. 

He now understood that out of everyone in Dean’s life, it was he who held an incredible amount of power over his big brother. Sam realized, for the first time in his life, what it must have been like for Dean when he watched Sam disappear into the grounds of Stanford. And how hard it must have been for Dean to drop Sam off at his apartment he shared with Jess when they returned from Jericho without their father.

Dean truly had no one.

And the one person in his life whom he pretty much raised from infanthood hated him enough to try to kill him.

Sam swallowed hard as the stinging began behind his eyes and the tightness in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. He let the tears go as he crawled over to his brother and slowly wrapped an arm around Dean’s stomach, careful of the bruises and wounds on his brother’s chest.

The touch was like the catalyst for Dean as he completely lost all control, sagging in Sam’s embrace.

Sam pulled Dean towards him, dropping his head to whisper words of love in his brother’s ear.

“I love you, Dean. So much,” Sam cried, face pressed into the side of Dean’s head, his own tears soaking Dean’s hair. “I don’t hate you. I don’t. I could never hate you. I’m so sorry, Dean, so sorry.”

Sam repeated the words over and over until Dean eventually slumped against him exhausted.

He maneuvered Dean until they were both laying full length on the bed, Dean’s back still pressed tightly to Sam’s chest. He let Dean go long enough for him to reach over and grab the top blanket off his own bed and dragged it over to drape over them both. Once they were under the cover, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s stomach, cradling his older brother against his chest protectively.

He didn’t know how he was going to make this up to Dean, but he vowed he’d spend the rest of his life trying.

 

Finis  
12/29/05


End file.
